O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To

The Hand Of Little Employment Hath The Daintier Sense.

Your Face, My Thane, Is As A Book Where Men May Read Strange Matters. To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time; Bear Welcome In Your Eye, Your Hand, Your Tongue: Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under't.

It Is My Soul That Calls Upon My Name; How Silver-sweet Sound Lovers' Tongues By Night, Like Softest Music To Attending Ears! -romeo

So Doth The Greater Glory Dim The Less: A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By.

Ay, When Fowls Have No Feathers And Fish Have No Fin.